


when the shriveled skin of the ordinary (is stuffed out with meaning)

by Lire_Casander



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, F/M, Scandalous Behavior, World War I (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23606896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: Liz is ready to do whatever it takes to give Max a reason to come back home.
Relationships: Max Evans/Liz Ortecho
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Time After Time: A Roswell New Mexico Alternate Era AU Event, there will always be an us (in every world in every story)





	when the shriveled skin of the ordinary (is stuffed out with meaning)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Profitina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Profitina/gifts).



> Written for the [Time After Time Event](https://alterarnm.tumblr.com/) over a Tumblr, **Day 4: 1900s**.
> 
> Prompt given by [alsoprofitina](https://alsoprofitina.tumblr.com/): **Liz shows Max her ankle AU**
> 
> Title by Virginia Woolf. Beta'ed by [mansikkaomenabanaani](https://mansikkaomenabanaani.tumblr.com/).

“Are you sure about this, Liz?” Maria asks, leaving her teacup on the table with a delicate flourish movement. “I mean, this is _huge_.”

“I know, but what am I supposed to do here? He’s leaving,” Liz tries to explain, still holding onto her tea. She shakes her head before speaking up. 

“It’s not like he’s not coming back.”

“This isn’t a drill, Maria,” Liz exclaims, finally snapping and shooting her friend a glare. “He’s going to _war_ , he might not come back.”

Maria sighs. To her credit, she doesn’t look up from her hands, blushing violently. Liz feels bad for her, but the truth needed to be told. “Everyone says that the military aren’t being sent over to Europe, not yet. It might end before our boys reach the Old Continent.”

“Or it would be still raging when Max lands in Belgium. We really don’t know, Maria, and I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Liz,” Maria whispers. “But I do think that _this_ is not the way to handle this situation. And I believe you know that, too.”

Liz sips from her cup, looking everywhere but Maria’s face — the painted paper on the walls of the room they’re currently sitting in, by the back of Liz’s family’s restaurant, the light entering the window — because she doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth behind Maria’s words. She’s desperate about the future that she might not have, not that her fiancé is being sent to a war that has nothing to do with them, a raging conflict between European countries that shouldn’t be resolved by the all-mighty United States.

“He may never come back. He may die over there, and then I wouldn’t have had whatever we’re supposed to have after marriage,” she tries to make her friend understand. “We can’t get married before he gets deployed, Maria. I’m not talking about losing—you know, about doing—about _that_ ,” she stammers by the end of her speech. “I’m just trying to give him, and myself, something to go on about. Something to hold on when things look bad. A reason to come back home.”

“By being scandalous?” Maria picks her cup again and grabs it with both hands, allowing the residual heat to warm her palms. “That would only end bad, and you know that. If anyone knew, Liz, if anyone—”

“No one would, if you don’t say a thing, Maria,” Liz replies pointedly. “I won’t say anything, and I don’t think Max will. It’s for his eyes only.”

“That’s a lot of trust to put on a man, Elizabeth.”

“He’s _my_ man, Maria.”

“I just hope you’re not putting your trust in someone who doesn’t deserve it,” Maria sighs. “I won’t say a thing. But, for the record, I’m not encouraging this behavior.”

“As if you hadn’t thought about doing it sometime!”

“I’m not _that_ open-minded!”

“Says the only black woman our age in Roswell.”

Maria laughs heartily, and Liz can breathe again. It’s not that she thought Maria would betray her — but maybe, for a brief moment, she’s been afraid that her best friend might look at her differently after her own confession. But Maria’s still here, still drinking her tea in the back room at the café Liz’s family has owned for four generations now. She’s not going anywhere. 

Liz can breathe again, and she keeps breathing, slowly, in and out, while she talks herself through her own idea, crazy and illogical as it may be.

* * *

Liz is shuffling nervously from one foot to the other right behind the glass door to the café, waiting for Max to pick her up for what could be their last date together in Roswell. He’s going to fly to New York for his training before he flies all the way to Belgium to fight in a war he doesn’t belong to. Liz doesn’t want him to go, but he’s a deputy at the Sheriff’s office and, although it’s not mandatory, it’s highly _encouraged_ for officers to join the Army ranks to fight Germany.

She’s chosen her best dress, a baby blue shade to contrast with the rosy color of her cheeks. The skirt falls all the way to the ground, sweeping the floors as she paces impatiently for her fiancé to show up. She plucks at the long sleeves that make her arms itch under the blazing sun of the New Mexico early spring, and looks up at the ceiling. 

“Mija, what’s going on?” her father says from the door that leads to the kitchen. “Is Mr Evans late?” 

“I don’t want him to go to war,” she blurts out. Scandalized, she lifts a hand to her mouth. She could be fined for just complaining about something that President Wilson has deemed a necessary damage. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he tries to comfort her, wiping his hands on a cloth and walking the few steps between himself and his daughter. “But he will come back. He’s strong, and heʼs brave. And he has to marry you, now that heʼs gone through all the pain of asking me for your hand.” 

She chuckles, shaking her head in amusement. 

“I hope you know, sir, that my intention has never been to lead your daughter on,” comes Max’s grave voice, deeper than any other Liz has ever heard. She turns to the door with a squeal, and has to stop herself before she makes a scene by jumping straight into his strong arms. 

“Mr Evans,” she greets politely. He nods in acknowledgment before turning to her father. 

“Thank you so much, sir, for your trust,” he says. “I will bring Elizabeth back at five sharp.” 

“That I hope, Mr Evans,” her father replies with just a hint of threat in his voice. Liz kisses his cheek delicately and hooks her arm through Max’s. “Have fun, my dear.” 

“Thanks, dad.” 

They walk slowly, leisurely, around town for a while, heading toward the nearest park. Liz keeps her arm hooked in the crook of Max’s elbow, holding on delicately as she strolls by his side, listening to his chit-chat about everything and nothing at all, until she finds a spot guarded enough for them to sit on a bench and enjoy the views of happy families without being actually seen. She knows she will be talked about if anyone notices them, but she finds out she doesn’t care. 

Her fiancé is going to a war he doesn’t belong to, and she’s going to take advantage of the fact that her father has retired Rosa from chaperone duties. 

“Are you tired?” Max asks, ever solicitous. 

“Not really,” she replies coyly. “I just wanted a moment for ourselves, where no one could really see us.” 

“Liz,” he whispers when she lets go of his arm, her fingers lingering on his skin long enough to raise goosebumps. She smiles. 

Theyʼre finally on a first-name basis, after so long dating that it feels like their whole lifetime. She will never get tired of hearing him say her name so reverently. 

“Just letʼs sit here for a minute.”

He nods, gulping visibly as he looks ahead. She has to bite back a laugh at him, always trying to do the right thing. She’s always been the reckless one, a wild force of nature, and she’s planning on making good on that expression her mom gifted her with before passing away. 

Liz leans in slowly, feigning to check something on her otherwise perfect shoes, watching how Max is checking her every movement out of the corner of his eye. She playfully lifts her dress a little, enough for her shoe to peek out, and taps on it. “It looks like it’s hurting my toe,” she says in a low voice. She knows itʼs not a subject to break to your fiancé in a public space, but she needs Maxʼs complete attention on her body. 

He delivers, looking fully at her. “May I help you?” he questions, hand already reaching out. 

Liz smirks, and pushes her dress further up, not too high so her legs are shown but enough so her ankle is in display. She will deal with the consequences later, if anyone finds out she’s being indecent enough to be showing off naked parts of her body, but now she just wants to relish in the awe and the undefinable feeling washing over Max’s face. 

“Liz,” he groans, pained and strangled. 

She grips the fabric of her dress tighter, keeping it in place right above her ankle, the tender skin on display for anyone to see. 

“Liz,” he repeats, this time sounding less wrecked. “What are you—” 

She silences him with one finger on his arm, her right hand still holding onto her dress. He gapes at her, quiet for a second, so she quips in, “I wanted to gift you with something to remember me by when you’re away.” 

He smiles sweetly, eyes still darting to her ankle briefly before settling on her face. “You didn’t have to do this,” he murmurs, voice trembling. “I wonʼt be able to forget about you.” 

“But youʼre going to war,” she protests. “That’s dangerous, and you may meet other girls and you may—” 

“Donʼt you finish that thought,” he cuts her off, finding enough strength to reach out and grab her hand, the hem of dress flowing back to the ground, covering her completely. “There’s no way I could ever forget about you. I love you, Elizabeth. I always will.” 

“Come back to me, soldier,” she manages to say, tears springing to her eyes, making her words sound more like a question than a statement. 

“Always,” he promises, leaning in and kissing her softly, just a peck of lips on lips, before offering her his arm again. “Itʼs time to go back home.” 

She wipes out her tears and laces her fingers to his, squeezing tightly. “I love you, Max Evans.” 

He smiles brightly, and thatʼs all she needs before he drops her back to her fatherʼs house, on time as always. There’s a promise in his words, a future held in his eyes, and she holds onto them until itʼs time for him to come back home.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts & other stuff to help you understand the storyline:
> 
> * Set in 1917, right before the first American soldiers were deployed to Belgium to fight in WWI.


End file.
